


A Black and White Question

by Eloisa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloisa/pseuds/Eloisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brynden Tully is imprisoned and thoroughly bored.  Jaime Lannister gives him something to consider.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Black and White Question

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the release of A Dance with Dragons.

A month of being dragged towards King’s Landing in chains had given Brynden Tully a new appreciation of cells.  His latest instalment, high in one of the Red Keep’s towers, was at least clean – far cleaner than him – but was full of draughts from the arm-wide slit window and the air-hole in the door.  After a few days of shivering in solitude on the sagging cot he began to wonder why there had been such a delay in executing him.

He was past the stage of personal regret.  At least he had not – as yet – seen any evidence that he’d inadvertently led the Lannisters to someone who, for the sake of the north, needed to remain hidden.

 The sound of footsteps and voices outside roused him.  He sat up and checked his inner list of stock responses to the questions he’d been repeatedly asked all journey.  He’d intended to ambush the column escorting Edmure and Queen Jeyne to Casterly Rock (he hadn’t: the very idea would have been madness).  He’d tracked eastward to try to enlist some outlaws for his cause (he hadn’t: he could have offered them little coin and no surety of plunder).  He was, when he cared to admit it, concerned for the welfare of his great-nephew Lord Arryn (this was true).  He’d had some slight thought of seeking refuge with the boy, but had rejected it outright on the grounds of endangering the Vale (also true).  He hadn’t seen Catelyn (true: had the lions forgotten that they’d slaughtered her?).

 He hadn’t seen Sansa.  That was true.  He’d seen the Lord Protector’s bastard, Alayne Stone.  He’d spoken with her for long enough to be certain that not only must she stay far away from the Lannisters, it was far from acceptable to leave her any longer in her ‘father’s’ care.

 Given time, he could have found them a ship.  _Maybe_.  But now –

 The door swung open.  His pre-rehearsed words froze in his mouth.

 “Good afternoon, Blackfish,” Jaime Lannister greeted him from the doorway.  He gave a quiet order to the guard, sauntered inside, closed the door behind him and looked around with a critical eye.  “I hope you’re comfortable.  I’ve seen worse cells – been locked in them, too.  Seems chilly in here, though.”

He recovered.  “Kingslayer.  Kind of you to visit: I was starting to get bored.”

 Lannister raised a golden eyebrow.  “Starting?”  He gestured to the window and its sumptuous vista of the opposite wall’s stonework seven feet away.  “Nice view you have here.  I’m sure you’ve spent a long time contemplating it.”

 Brynden watched the Kingslayer and considered.  He had a sword slung at his right hip – but the hilt was lost beneath his white cloak.  It might not be possible to snatch the weapon before the guards intervened.  Had he been certain he would reach it, he would have gone for it at once.  Killing the worst man in Westeros would have merited a thousand deaths of his own.

 “Assuage my curiosity.”  He was barely sure whether he wanted to distract Lannister or himself.  “Your jackals wouldn’t have dragged me back here to no purpose.  When were you planning to behead me?”

 “Not until all the arguing’s over.”  Bereft of anywhere to sit, the Kingslayer leant on the opposite wall.  A patch of soot from a guttering torch threatened to ruin his pristine clothing.  “There’s a vocal little group of councillors that wants your head on a spike right now, but the Lord Regent’s more inclined towards the moderate strain that would prefer to see you on the Wall.”

 “Is he, now?”  Brynden tried to read the younger man’s face.  Someone who lived a tangle of lies – “I wonder how Ned Stark’s bastard would feel to see me walk in.”

 “Relieved, if he’s sensible – both that you arrived too late to be considered for the Lord Commandership, and especially to have a battle-seasoned man on hand.”

 “I hear Stannis Baratheon was generous enough to defend the Wall from wildlings.”

 “He did,” Lannister answered with a dry smile.  “I hear the Night’s Watch was churlish enough not to respond in the manner he required.”

 He’d known the Snow boy had hidden a lion’s heart beneath the white wolf pelt.  But the lion in front of him was a different and altogether puzzling matter.  “While it’s pleasant to have this update, your interest in the situation escapes me.”

 “You’re forgetting.”  The Kingslayer’s voice was deceptively sweet.  “I swore to Catelyn Stark that I would never again take up arms against the Tullys.”

 “And proved the value of that oath most conclusively when you threatened the life of my unborn great-nephew.”

 “Is it my doing Edmure’s so easy to intimidate?”

Brynden was set to retort before he controlled himself.  Lannister wasn’t worth it.  “Well, those few who know of your ‘oath’ and the fewer who believed that you might keep it wouldn’t jib at a sin of omission if the council decided not to give me the option of the Wall.”  He waited a beat.  “Or if I decided not to take it.”

 “Some men would call you wise not even to consider it.  The wildlings, the wildlife and the winters are vicious so far north.”

 “So I die either way.”

 “And I – _imperil_ my oath, at least.”

 “Do you expect anyone, least of all me, to believe that that is one of your overriding concerns?”

 Suddenly the little smile was gone.  “You are not the last Tully left alive.  You have kin in the Vale, for instance.”

 A colder draught seemed to ghost into the chilly cell.  “My great-nephew Arryn holds the Vale,” he answered, calm as if under arrow-fire.

 “I’d wondered why you didn’t take refuge in his service.”

 The half-truth came easily to his lips.  “His Lord Protector is not a man to brook interference, or to permit the presence of such a danger to his ward.  Nor am I like to bring danger upon Lord Robert.”

 “Of course not.”  His voice was flat and his expression dark.  “And the Lord Protector is also engaged, I hear, in keeping – _unsuitable_ people away from his natural daughter.  I understand he is unusually protective of her.”

 The ghost-breath seared his lungs.  _He knows._

 Brynden caught himself and recovered.  “As is entirely understandable when considering a maid raised so chastely.”

 “Yes; too chaste to be caught.”  The Kingslayer’s eyes on him seemed more like a hawk’s than a lion’s.  “You would have been ideally placed to assist your Vale kin, had you evaded capture.  But dead or at the Wall – well.”

 “I hardly think you came here to help me escape.”

“I’m a knight of the Kingsguard.  Letting one of the king’s enemies out of his jail seems contrary to my oath to protect him.”

 “The king is a boy the same age as Robert Arryn.”  _The king is your bastard son.  You think I didn’t know it?_

 “And as Robert Arryn’s stewardship of the Vale is guided by his Lord Protector, King Tommen’s stewardship of the realm is guided by his Lord Regent.”  Lannister pushed off the wall and walked to the window, staring at the non-view, his tread finally that of a lion – a trapped and restless one.  “King Tommen rules seven kingdoms.  Note how many are represented among his retainers.”  His golden hand tapped on the windowsill.  “Lord Kevan is oddly unhappy to be surrounded by relatives, good-relatives and loyal bannermen.  The war is won, and such fighting as continues is sporadic and soon ended.”

 “Stannis Baratheon would not agree.”

 “Stannis Baratheon has gone north for the winter.  He will not return, any more than you would if you took the black.  The Greyjoys concern me far more: I won’t accept their entire fleet sank in a storm until I see the driftwood.”  He turned back to Brynden and shrugged.  “Be that as it may – the Lord Regent wants to bring the riverlands back into the kingdom, not to leave them ruined and resentful.  Beheading you would do nothing but build further barriers between them and the south and west.  With you alive, we have a chance to build _bridges_ instead.”

 “By sending me north to freeze to death or fall under a wildling arrow.”

 Lannister studied his mother-of pearl fingernails.  “Cloaks come in more than one colour.”

 It took Brynden some seconds to recover.  “You think there’s the slightest chance I would –”

 “I thought that would be your first reaction.”  Lannister met his eyes again, and suddenly there seemed to be a veneer of sincerity atop the façade.  “Princess Myrcella’s sworn shield lately died in her defence, giving me a vacancy to fill.  I remember the Kingsguard as it once was.  I want to rebuild – and I would have you with me, if you are willing to join us.”

 The silence between them was broken by the winter wind’s howls.  The Kingslayer glanced outside at the sound of a roof slate tumbling several dozen feet to the ground.  “Think about it,” he suggested.  “Think of the advantages – for you and your kin – if you can stomach having me as a commander.”  He strolled towards the door.  “Unless you prefer to go and defend the northern border from snarks and grumkins – and wildlings, which have the benefit of actually existing.”  He reached for the door latch with his golden hand, muttered something under his breath and opened it with his good hand instead.

 “Lannister.”  He stopped, framed by the doorway and the torchlight outside, white and gold like an altar candle.  “You’ve – this was a – surprise.  I need some time.”

 “I can’t say how much I can give you – but I’ll do what I can.”  The door closed on him as if on an apparition.  Brynden leant back against the wall and closed his eyes.

It was, on the face of it, a preposterous notion.  Lannister made his sword-hand itch.  A man who had done his family so much harm –

 And who was clearly in a position to do even more harm, should the fancy take him.

 With _that_ to take into account, there really was only one answer he could make.


End file.
